It is Our Fate
by EnjolrasLovedEponine
Summary: Three chapters of separate oneshots where Enjolras and Eponine take on the roles of lovers and loves that may or may not last. Description inside. Enjoy! Please review! E/E


**A/N: Surprise! Greek myths and Les Mis! Being Greek, I naturally have that love of tragedy so if any of your were wondering why the heck I enjoy it so much, I'm Greek. There you go. But not every oneshot will be a tragedy! Just so you know. Anyway so what I did was take the lovers of the myth, Orpheus and Eurydice, and switch them with Enjolras and Eponine but the rest stays the same. I'm going to stay as true to the myths as I can as well. If any of you think of a myth you'd be interested to read, let me know, and I'll write it! Also, as I said in the summary, it's going to be a three oneshots, but of different myths. They aren't connected in any way. Just separate oneshots in three chapters. Enjoy!**

I Beg of You, My Love

He was the heir of the great Apollo, god of music and the sun. Like his father, he was gifted with the love and skill of music and indeed, was a poet as well. Though he lived in the city of Thrace, he often ventured into the forest and dazzled all of nature with his joyous song and the beautiful golden lyre he strummed. Yes, he was talented, the most so in all of Greece that even the gods above adored his music, and even his arrogant father Apollo blessed his son with his pride for him. His own son, Enjolras. None questioned Enjolras as the sun god's child; not only was the man gifted in music, he bore such a striking resemblance of his father—his gold curly hair and deep blue eyes, his own form seemed as if sculpted by Apollo himself. No, no one mistook him for any other. He was indeed Apollo's son.

And like his father, Enjolras himself was susceptible to love and succumbed to it. He had fallen in love with a woman, the most beautiful woman in Thrace, Eponine. Deep brown eyes, pale skin, dark brown hair that reflected the sun, yes even Eponine could make the enchanting Aphrodite shriek with jealousy. Enjolras was grateful for the goddess of love's own mercy on his Eponine.

In the days of spring they agreed to be married, and truly neither man nor woman could be any happier. Eponine loved Enjolras and he, her, ever so passionately, eternally, a love so strong that the gods above on Mount Olympus could not fathom such a _mortal_ love. And on that blessed wedding day, Eponine found herself alone in the gardens, draped in gown so white and a smile so pure, beneath the branches of a laurel tree. She stared up into the branches, peering into the light that managed to seep its way to the ground, failing to notice the viper nearing her feet. With a hiss and a snap, the snake sunk its fangs into her ankle and poor Eponine gave out a screech. Upon hearing his beloved's cries, Enjolras raced to find Eponine lying underneath the laurel tree, blood seeping from her ankle and no snake to be seen.

"Eponine. Eponine!" Enjolras cradled her in his arms, the life leaving her body.

Her eyes opened slowly, his heart jumped. Hope filled him. She gave him a smile, a happy contented smile as she reached up to stroke his cheek as tears stained his skin. Neither said a word to each other, no words could be formed as Enjolras watched his love close her eyes forever. He pressed his forehead to hers, and he wept. His heart shattered, and his desperation grew. How could the gods be so cruel? To let the love of his life be snatched from him. This couldn't be! She mustn't be dead! She can't leave him! He clutched her body to him, weeping softly so that only she might hear, and left her a kiss on her cold lips. He placed her back gently on the grass and rose, staring down at her lifeless form. Even in death, Eponine was still so beautiful.

"I will see you again," He vowed, gazing at her with hardened eyes, "And you will smile, my love."

And so, he set out to the one place he knew where Eponine would be. He reached the mouth of Tartarus, the realm of Hades, the land where the sun cannot touch, a world of darkness. From within the darkened land, he paid Charon—the boatman who ferried the souls of the dead across the River Styx—to take him across the river. From there he went to confront Hades. And there within the Underworld, Hades sat in his palace with his beautiful, yet sad and cruel wife Persephone by his side.

"Enjolras, son of Apollo and the Muse Calliope. You are not of the dead. What brings you to set foot in my lands?" Hades was not pleased to see a man of the living in his realm, let alone, his own palace.

"Great Hades, Queen Persephone," Enjolras bowed, "I beg of you, my beloved Eponine died on the day of our wedding. Such a fair and loving woman, she was not meant to die! Not on this day! I humbly ask of you to have mercy, bring my love back to me so that we may have the years together we had promised each other."

Hades pondered what the man before him had to say before turning his gaze to his wife, "My dearest wife, what do you have to say? In matters of the heart, you surely must know what we must do with our visitor's request."

He knew his Persephone, and how her years in the darkness had changed her, this once joyful and spirited woman of youth. Hades did not doubt Persephone's heart. She would give Enjolras what was necessary.

Persephone stared down upon Enjolras with harsh yet thoughtful eyes before the idea came to her. She indeed pity the man, only slightly for the lose of his Eponine, for just as their love reached the gods on Mount Olympus, it descended just as low into Tartarus.

"Play me a song, musician. And if I am pleased, my husband and I shall grant your wish." Declared Persephone.

Enjolras nodded and rose to his feet, and with his lyre in hand, he played and sang with all his might, so elegant and moving it filled all of Tartarus with his glorious music. Even the dead felt, just for a moment, happiness in the sound. The song didn't last too long, but enough to allow Hades and Persephone to make up their minds together on what was to be done with Enjolras' request.

For once in so long, Persephone smiled. "I am, in fact, pleased with your music, Enjolras. It would be a shame indeed if something were to befall on you."

"Thank you, my lady."

"You have traveled from the land of the living to retrieve your fallen bride. You may take her." Said the Queen of the Underworld.

Enjolras' heart rose as hope excitement filled him. To have his beloved Eponine again, a blessing, truly! He could feel tentative fingers slip into his, and just as he was about to turn to gaze upon her beautiful face Hades spoke.

"There is a condition, hasty Enjolras." Hades said darkly, "Yes, she is there. She will follow where you go. But gaze upon Eponine before you leave my realm, her soul is mine to keep."

Enjolras gulped as fear and anxiety quickly seeped into his heart.

"Be gone!" Hades commanded.

Enjolras did so and dashed out of the palace, praying Eponine was behind him as Hades had said. She was no illusion, he tried to convince himself, she is behind me, she is there. He needed to see her. He needed to be sure she was there! And as they stood on the boat that carried them across Styx, Enjolras closed his eyes and balled his hands into fists to restrain himself, anything to keep from looking at her. Once they had crossed the river, all they had left was to trek up the hill. Slowly the darkness turned to gray, and Enjolras could see the sunlight. But there was one thing he knew for sure. When he steps into the sunlight, he will never be able to return to the Underworld. No being of life is ever allowed to return twice. And with each step closer to sunlight, the stronger the yearn was to turn around, to face his dear Eponine. Enjolras clenched his fists tighter. He was almost there. But he must turn around! What if she isn't there? What if he had been tricked?

"I beg of you, my love. Don't turn around. You mustn't face me." He could hear her words so clearly, yet he knew they were only a deception of the mind.

And then he had reached sunlight, the warmth it blessed him with. He was out of Tartarus. Without a moment's thought, he swiftly turned around, and his heart nearly stopped.

Eponine. She was there. She was there but bathed in shadow. She hadn't reached Tartarus' edge. Her eyes were heartrending, yet she bore that same smile again, that smile of love, understanding, and serenity.

"Farewell, my love," she breathed.

And she was gone.

Enjolras collapsed to his knees, tears threatening to leave his eyes again, his hands running through his hair as if he was contemplating to tear it out.

"Eponine!" He screamed in self-loathing and sorrow.

From up above the gods stared down on him with pity and grief. They watched as Enjolras sat at the entrance for days, refusing to leave as he mourned. The all-powerful gods were heart broken for his loss and waited patiently for what he was going to do next. And one day, he stood and walked off into the wilderness with his lyre in hand. From then on till his death, the son of Apollo played music for nature and the gods to hear, singing the unhappy tale of the love of his life. Never again was his music joyful, for he had died there as he watched Eponine disappear back into the Underworld. And so, alone and miserable, he forever sang of the tale of Enjolras and his beautiful Eponine.


End file.
